Talking to Baba
by Elly'sCake
Summary: A collection of experiences between Jesus and I. Some spontaneous poetry is also in there. Deeply personal and very honest. Updates aren't frequent because I'm busy being alive. ;)
1. Jumping Jacks and Glory

Here are some random things that have happened between Jesus and I:

One day, I was sitting in the recliner complaining about how lazy I was when Mom came in and told me to do 25 sit-ups and 10 jumping jacks. I got up but hesitated to start because she was standing there staring at me. I did the sit-ups (with the recliner as a foot hold) and did the jumping jacks in the middle of the living room. Mom laughed while she watched, which made me laugh, which made it difficult to do them. When I finished, I walked to the hallway to my room. Suddenly, this random idea popped into my head. Jesus was standing in the hallway in front of me and I stopped because He looked like He was going to say something. Instead, He started doing random jumping jacks with a cheesy smile and it made laugh so hard! I laughed for a good five minutes and Mom looked at me like I was crazy. Jesus smiled and laughed because I was laughing. He did those jumping jacks to make me stop feeling so low and it worked.

In church, we were talking about the book of Revelation and Pastor said something about Jesus' glory. I looked over and saw a book next to Mom that had a picture of Him on it and He had white hair and white robes. I always see Him as a tall Hebrew man with longer, messy dark hair. That whole white hair thing just threw me off for a while until I got home and looked up the Bible text to see if that's what it really said. Sure enough, Revelation 1:12-16:

"As frightened as I was, I turned to see who was talking to me, and I saw seven golden lampstands, and someone like the Son of Man was walking among them. He was wearing a long, white robe down to His ankles and had a golden sash around His waist just below His chest. His hair was white like wool, or even whiter - like snow, and His eyes blazed like flames of fire. His feet glowed like bronze burning in a furnace. When He spoke, His voice sounded like the thundering of a mighty waterfall. In His right hand, He held seven stars. Each time He spoke, a beam of light like a two-edged sword came out of His mouth. His whole face radiated with light as dazzling as the noonday sun."

When I finished reading that, I looked up at Him and said, "So you're going to look your actual age now?"

He laughed.

I read some more: "When I saw this, I fell down as dead. He came close, put His hand on me and said, "Don't be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I was dead but I'm alive, and I will ever die again. All authority is given to Me in Heaven and on Earth. I alone have the keys to death and the grave."

Now every time something comes up about Jesus' glory or how He looks, it makes me think about when I'll finally see Him. Sometimes, it'll be a serious thought, but most of the time, I think of that "I fell down as dead," and imagine myself turning around an just flying back in shock because He's so bright. And then He'll say, "Whoa!" and come over to me to help me up and ask if I'm okay. I'll shake my head because everything's still bright and it's overwhelming. Then He'll put His hands on the sides of my face, cover my eyes with His thumbs, then pull away. When I open them, He looks like He did before: a Hebrew man with longer, messy dark hair and scruffy brown whiskers. He'll still be glowing and all of his outlines are tinged with white light, but now my eyes aren't squinting and He smiles at me.

Of course, I have no idea if that's how it works, but I suppose I'll find out someday.

Man, He's so awesome.


	2. Heaven and Beards

Here are some experiences I recorded in my journal:

When I parked outside my church, I noticed how cozy the house across the street looked. It had grey-blue siding with white trim, as well as a large porch and pretty landscaping. The sun cast a warm glow over it and gave shadows to the trees as they blew in the wind. I imagined myself and Jesus sitting on the porch steps drinking hot chocolate (it was late autumn). For a while, I debated about whether or not I should go into the church or stay sitting in the car. I decided to stay in the car until someone pulled up beside me. For the next 40 minutes or so, Jesus and I sat in the car and I asked Him questions about Heaven while I continued to admire the house. I asked Him if there would be seasons, or any buildings. I asked if it was possible to recreate the feelings of memories, or if that would just remind us of the bitter-sweet past and miss it. The reason I stared at the house for so long was because it had a certain feeling about it, like that of a warm memory of my family. In memories, I don't remember what anyone said, but I remember the colors, the light, and who was there. Jesus said that He could recreate those good feelings and expand them. He told me that Heaven (and the New Earth) will be a lot better than earth as it is now, even though I couldn't imagine it. He said I would understand when it comes to be.

We started talking about people, then, because I noticed how good feelings are associated with certain people. I said I wanted everyone to be There (as He does), because it wouldn't feel quite right if someone you really cared about wasn't There. But He and I both knew that as much as we want them to be There, we can't choose for them. He gives us as many chances as He possibly can, but in the end, it's their choice. I only hope that everyone chooses to come. I went into church then, although no one ever pulled up beside me.

* * *

What about me and Jesus? There have been good times. He's the One who tells me gently to get up in the morning, and He strokes my hair and hugs me when I'm tired and I need a friend. We've also laughed more. I asked Him what He would look like if He cut His whiskers like Seneca Crane from The Hunger Games. His face got concerned and His hand went up to cover His whiskers in defense. He said He's been working on His beard for such a long time that He doesn't want to change it. He had to lose it when He was born and anxiously waited for it to grow back. For some reason, that caused me to think of a baby with a dark brown beard and I started laughing. He saw my thought and started laughing, too. In general, I think He's just a really sweet guy and it makes me feel better when I see His subtle smile.


	3. Forgiveness

From my journal:

One time, a typo text message from one of my guy friends really messed me up. It had followed me all throughout the school day and after school, it prevented me from doing my math homework. When I had nearly finished the assignment, my body was extremely tense and my breathing was hard. It was satan in my mind, and suddenly a thought occurred to me that if I just released my tense form, the whole thing would be over. I had to repeat that idea over and over until finally, I carried it out. It was finished. Shortly after I released, I burst into tears. satan vanished and Jesus walked up and sat down in the chair next to me. He told me that I had fought and won. I sure didn't feel like a winner. In fact, before I fought, I had fallen completely in. How can I say I'm sorry if I just keep going back to this? I really, _really_ don't want to do it anymore, but a part of me (unfortunately) longs for romantic affection. Maybe someday I'll be open enough to have a husband that I won't be totally afraid to let provide me with these wants, but always, always, _always,_ I ask if it's right or wrong to want such things, married or not. Right now, while I'm 16 and in high school, I know it's not right. It's just SO difficult to remove the fire without getting burned. There is absolutely NO WAY I will make it out alive and avoid going back without the help of my Best Friend.

What hurts the most about sinning is seeing Him standing a few yards away while you're doing something you know you shouldn't be and noticing how sad He looks. After it was over and I was still bawling in shame, He told me to wipe my nose and open the Bible. I did what He said. The first thing I landed on was Psalm 40:

"I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God." It goes on to talk about all the good things He has done and then asks Him for help. "Do not withhold your mercy from me, Lord; may your love and faithfulness always protect me. For troubles without number surround me; my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see." The next thing I ran into was the end of Mark where a title read "The Death of Jesus".

More tear ran down my face as Jesus said, "That's where your sin went. It's gone, disappeared." Then He said, "Vamoose!" to try and make me laugh, but all I could do was smile for a split second. As it faded, I asked, "But how do _You_ respond to this? I just betrayed you!"

I flipped ahead in my Bible and discovered Hebrews 10. It directly quoted Psalm 40. In verse 17, God as the Holy Spirit said, "Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more."

This made me sob. My crying had turned from guilt to gratefulness, though. Jesus got out of His chair and held me. His eyes were full of tears. Choking on sobs, I repeated over and over that I was sorry, not because I was caught, but because I had let it happen. I had hurt Him, but He didn't hold it against me for a single instant. When my crying has ceased, I felt a whole lot better. After that, I took a shower and went to bed early.


	4. Lord, Save Me

**This was originally an essay I just used for English. And shoot, the struggle continues, but I know that it will get better somehow.**

Senior year was supposed to be amazing. This was the thought I carried when I walked into the building on the first day of school, only to discover in a few short hours that school could only ever be one thing – a stress bomb. I could have plowed through each day and dealt with it, or I could have given up and drifted the rest of the year. My third and final option was to ask for help, but would my pride allow me to do that?

On the night of the first day, the looming chaos of the entire year fell on me, and visited me in my sleep. The dream I had was vivid, leaving me wondering upon waking. I was running. Running from what, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that it was evil. My feet carried me through the woods until I were forced to halt at the top of a short waterfall. The river attached to it was raging and ferocious, but it was my only escape. I jumped. Nasty, green water engulfed me, the swift current dragging my body downstream while immobilizing my limbs. Fear gripped me, until a seemingly random thought flew into my mind: _If I can just raise my arm over my head, God's hand will be there to pull me out._

So that's what I did. I forced my arm to rise against the waters, and felt immediate relief when my senses detected a strong hand latching onto my own. It pulled me from the river, and set me on shore. Safety was mine as I smiled in a wet heap, watching the hand that had saved me disappear. There was only His hand, and nothing more. Once I was awake, my mind tried to decipher why this dream had come to me. I wouldn't find out until a week later.

By Friday of the next week, I was done. Homework was my only focus, and it seemed impossible to find time to catch up, to get it all done. Time hated me. It caused me to get locked out of the school building when I came back from senior privileges, making me late for class. It caused me to miss lunch because I spent all of it doing homework. It demanded that I do extra tasks, only to have me blow them off later. There was just _too much._ When I got home on Friday, I dropped my backpack, kicked off my shoes, and sunk into my desk chair, succumbing to wave after wave of tears. Time stood still then. From across my bedroom, I had a perfect view of my teal Bible. I didn't open it, but simply seeing it brought the dream from the previous week back into my head. If I raised my arm, it would mean that I was utterly helpless, but if I didn't, I would be forced to hide in that present darkness, falling deeper into empty, impure contemplations. I raised my arm. As expected, nothing really happened. No light suddenly poured in through the windows. No strength made itself known on my senses. However, the power of acknowledgement was enough to send me back into sobbing. After this incident, I cleaned up my face and continued like all was well.

On Saturday, the Sabbath, I walked into church wearing the face of a sleepwalker. "Hello. How are you?" people said as they passed me in the halls. I attempted to smile, which seemed to satisfy them, but said nothing. My friend, Summer, was sitting in a pew far to the right of the sanctuary, so I sat in front of her, the only one on the bench. Another friend, Sam, cast worried glances in my direction from the other end of the sanctuary. College kids were leading out that day. They were strangers, which made what happened next all the more substantial. During children's story, one of them stepped forward and told the story of Jesus pulling Peter out of the sea – the exact story that came to mind when I thought of my dream.

I told Jesus, "You did that on purpose."

Usually, that statement comes out of my mouth when something cute like a song of encouragement comes on the radio, or a random cat approaches me on the street, looking for belly rubs. Usually, I smile, but this time, I cried. My feet carried me out of the sanctuary to the bathroom, where I stayed a while, only to go back and fill my ears with the words of Pastor Dragos, who was giving a sermon about how it's okay to cry. There was no way this was a coincidence. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted," he quoted from Matthew. After realizing how these three experiences were connected, I was indeed comforted, despite my wet face. God was there, holding me tight.

What I discovered that day was that He's got it. All He ever wanted me to do was trust Him, and by doing so, He would provide for me, whether I needed time, comfort, peace, or whatever else. He was there. Now, whenever the struggle proves itself once more to be real, I just raise my arm, and I know He's got it. At this point in my life, I've realized how vital this has become. Even though life hurts, I have a safe hand to grab onto to.


	5. A Letter to Guests

**A Letter to Guests:**

If you personally do not believe in Jesus, I would very much appreciate if you would refrain from posting horrendous comments. I am not trying to force my faith on you; you are the one who chose to read this story. Just because we do not believe the same things doesn't mean you have to make vulgar comments and accuse me of having mental illness.

You do not know me, and I do not know you, so let's do each other a favor and respect each others' beliefs.

Please note that most of what I write about doesn't physically happen. If you know what faith is, it's generally described as "believing without seeing." What I'm telling you isn't physically seen, but rather, my mind, emotions, and spirit produce what I see. The only people who can understand what I mean by this are my fellow Christians. We can feel God's love so strongly that it would seem He's in the room - and He is - as the Holy Spirit. I'm seeing and listening to Jesus because of the Holy Spirit.

Like I said, unless you've experienced it yourself, you won't really understand what I'm talking about, and that's okay. All I am asking is that you hold back your judgement and have the decency not to make awful comments about the state of my health or about God Himself.

I know what it feels like to be the worst wretch, the disgusting pile of dirt that everyone steps on. But guess what? Even though it would be a privilege to even have Jesus spit in my eye, He gives me His heart instead. He holds me in extremely high value, although I am nothing.

He loves you, too. He wants to give His heart to you. He's just waiting for you to ask Him for it.


	6. Confession Meets Compassion

You.

You can create anything with such precision,

You command the universe in an eternal Kingdom that has no boundaries,

You are completely and incomprehensively flawless,

which makes You omniscient, omnipresent, powerful, and yet personable.

Everything comes from You, and You have power over everything.

You have the undying and endless love of Your Father and Your Spirit.

Your friends are angels and flawless beings.

There is no shortage of righteousness in the unseen realm You reside in.

Everything You could ever possibly want is with You.

How then, with all this, do You see a small, trampled, wretched pile of dirt,

and decide to pour out all Your love on it?

I am but a spec of dust on the wind, easily destroyed, ugly in mind, body, and soul.

I am not righteous enough to be blessed to even have You spit in my eye.

One look in Your marvelous eyes would certainly kill me.

Even a sliver of righteousness would be enough to overwhelm me.

My mind says that I love You, but my heart tugs me toward dark pleasures.

I am like the sledge that one scrapes off their boot,

a whore that everyone is too disgusted to take advantage of.

It would be just for me to suffocate and writhe like a demon under Your feet.

Death would be merciful.

I expect to be abandoned because of my hypocrisy and detestable acts.

I expect to be dragged to hell and left to suffer in regret,

because this is what I deserve.

Yet, here I am, have the audacity to beg at Your feet.

It would be a privilege if You kicked me.

But somehow, You took one look at me, a barely noticeable sprinkle of dreadful nothingness,

and said, "I love you more than anyone else in existence could possibly love you."

And then You proved it by taking my place on the receiving end of the boot.

You are God, and You died.

You gave up all the beautiful, flawless wonders You had... for me.

You didn't even know if I'd love You back.

I looked You in the eye as I murdered You with my sin, but for some reason,

You still want to pour out all the love You possess on me.

All I can do is weakly whisper, "Thank You."


End file.
